


To Worship at His Altar

by the_genderman



Series: My 2018 MCU Kink Bingo Fics [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blow Jobs, Cock Worship, Consentacles, Deepthroating, M/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Well ok he's just small, eldritch demigod Bucky, human/demigod sex, it's like canon-flavored LaCroix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 05:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15112829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: When the sea is cruel and the harvests poor, tradition dictates that the gods must be offered a great sacrifice.





	To Worship at His Altar

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know Lovecraft was an unrepentant racist, I hope I will not be letting any of that into my fic. I also admit that I haven’t read any of his works, only absorbed various pop culture knowledge of the Old Gods and betentacled horrors and whatnot. I wanted magical tentacles, so we’re going with an eldritch demigod kind of thing. Also, I am tagging this as Bucky/Steve, but for the whole fic, Bucky will only be referred to as **He** or **Him** or similar pronouns. It’s very AU. Or something.

**He** awakens, snapping suddenly into consciousness. There is a powerful presence at the altar in **His** cave and **He** is compelled to investigate. It feels like the human high priests, and he feels their words in his very being. **He** coalesces into a vaguely solid shape, like a mass of kelp and rises slowly to the surface of the water to see what they have brought him today.

The sea cave is cool and damp, sunlight filtering in through a few holes worn through the high vault of the cave by millennia of wind and water and weaker rock. There is one entrance on the landward side that the humans pass through, and one far beneath the surface of the water for **Him** and **His** kin. The sea comes into the cave and is calmed, lapping softly at the sandy shore within. Beneath one of the holes where the light trickles in, the humans built an altar to **His** kin. 

The altar had once been **His** dam’s, but it had been left untended for many decades as **His** kin warred among themselves over the existence of hybrid offspring, borne of the Old Ones and numerous, more mortal species. **His** dam had been an Old One, but **His** sire had been a human, a pairing which had offended the Great Entangler, sower of chaos in an attempt to bring his own sort of order to this world. In the battle, the Great Entangler had banished **His** dam to a far-distant realm and locked **Him** away in the icy depths, stripped of **His** memory and will, fractured into innumerable shards of **Himself**. 

But chaos cannot be tamed, and the Great Entangler found himself driven from power, replaced by lesser gods. When the Great Entangler faded from this realm, **He** found **Himself** once again aware. **He** pulled **Himself** back together and returned to the sea in which **He** had been born and the familiarity of the altar. **He** had welcomed the oily smoke of the burnt offerings on holy days and given the humans what small gifts **He** was able. 

Being only a demigod, **He** did not have **His** dam’s nearly unlimited powers, but he did what **He** could. The weather, however, was not something **He** had much control over. The powerful storms that had forced the village’s fishing fleet to remain in harbor for most of three months and flooded their fields brought more frequent and even more varied sacrifices to **His** altar and **He** was growing quite frustrated with the humans. Had **He** not told them that these storms were not **His** doing? Chaos had been upset and was returning to its natural state. And while **He** appreciated the flesh and blood of the rams and bullocks—so different from his usual aquatic sustenance— **He** could do little to ease the rain and the wind, only time could do that. **He** hoped they had not tried to leave **Him** another human sacrifice. It had taken **Him** so much effort to draw the sulfur out of the deep sea vents to create the fireballs necessary to spell out the words “no more human sacrifice.” Perhaps **His** third and most extravagant attempt would finally have convinced them.

 **He** reaches the surface. **He** spreads out over the water like oil, small tentacles like cilia tasting the air, feeling the atmosphere of the cave and telling **Him** what to expect, what form **He** should take. The tentacles freeze. **He** knows that taste. Fear. And not merely the fear of a tethered prey animal that knows the approach of a predator. Human fear. But… **His** tentacles begin to undulate slowly, drawing the subtle air currents over **His** surface. True, there is fear, but there is also acceptance and defiance. The taste is strong and enticing. Even if **He** does not wish to eat this human ( **He** _is_ part human **Himself** , after all), **He** is quite curious. **He** finds **Himself** drawn to the altar and its offering. **He** shimmers and shuts out all unnecessary sensation, finding the form best suited to this scenario.

 **He** opens **His** eyes and sees the altar. On either side of the altar are tethered a bullock and a ram, hobbled so that they cannot break free and stampede in mad terror. On top of the altar kneels a man, small in stature, but great in strength of will; **He** is nearly taken aback by, yet also drawn to, this unassuming-looking human. The man is naked (a new development), his hands clasped behind his back. His body is bound in delicate strings of pearls which, had he chosen, he could surely have broken. The previous sacrifices had been bound in iron so they could not flee; this man _chooses_ not to flee (this is also a new development).

 **He** takes **His** form, rises from the water, and approaches the altar.

\------------------

Steven tries to calm the fear roiling in his belly as he watches the water calm and grow clearer, realizing that the gently seething darkness was _not_ the water but the god to which this altar had been dedicated. He hoped that he would be the last, the sacrifice that was finally good enough. The jewels and the animals had been accepted, but the people who came before him had returned to the village, bearing tales of a voice with no tongue that bade them to go back whence they came and shattered their shackles. He had offered himself, hoping that perhaps the god wanted a _willing_ sacrifice. He had no family left, no one at home to mourn him. If he must sacrifice himself for the good of the village, then so be it. 

The darkness solidifies and Steven gasps. The god has taken the form of a man with long, dark hair, dressed in ragged strips of black silk blown by an unfelt breeze. **He** crosses the sand to the altar and stands before it, looking at, into, through Steven. **His** eyes are the sea. 

**He** speaks. “I _told_ the priests, no more human sacrifices.”

Steven blinks. This is unexpected. “You what?” he finds himself asking before he can stop himself. This is no way to speak to a god.

“Was I not clear enough?” **He** continues. “I don’t _eat_ humans, so what am I supposed to do with a human sacrifice? Take you home as a pet? No! Humans cannot live underwater. You should go back to your village.”

“If I may be so forward as to interrupt, sir,” Steven says, a little unsure how to properly address a god, “but when did you tell them? How did you tell them?”

“When did they last come to the altar?” **He** asks.

“Two weeks ago, I believe,” Steven replies.

“Two weeks less three days ago, then. My previous messages had been ignored, so I was forced to escalate. Sulfurous fire is difficult to ignore, and yet they seem to have done just that.”

Steven’s jaw drops. _That_? The whole village had seen the blue flames writhing in the air in the middle of the village green, looking possibly like ancient letters, but they could not translate it. No humans could read the Old Script anymore. The priests had conferred and decided it must have been sent in anger, displeased with the terrified girl they had offered. 

**He** must have seen the dawning realization on Steven’s face, because **He** cocks **His** head, narrows his eyes, and asks “What is it?”

“I do apologize for the misunderstanding,” Steven says. “We cannot read the Old Script and we were unsure what your message meant.”

“ **I** did not write it in your language?” **He** says, looking slightly puzzled. “Human languages are tricky. **I** have no difficulty speaking your tongues, but writing is different. But if none in your village could read it, what did the priests believe it meant?”

“The priests conferred on it and decided that you were unhappy with us, and with the return of the girl, they assumed that the sacrifice had not been good enough for you. This time we decided to offer a willing sacrifice.”

“You offered yourself willingly to **Me** ,” **He** says, **His** voice betraying no emotion. **His** eyes are piercing.

“Yes,” Steven says, bowing his head.

“You allowed them to bring you here expecting that I was going to _eat_ you?”

Steven nods.

“ **I** am not going to eat you,” **He** says. He steps up to the altar, close enough to touch Steven, and raises a hand. **His** fingers slip under one of the strings of pearls, brushing against Steven’s skin. “ _These_ , however, **I** will be taking. **I** do enjoy a nice pearl. The flavor is so delicate when they are dried. **I** don’t like to have to dry them **Myself** , as birds tend to steal them before they are finished.”

Steven’s eyes close and his lips part slightly. **His** touch, though brief, is warm and pleasant. Apart from the priests binding him with the pearls, he cannot remember the last time anyone touched his skin like this. It certainly doesn’t help that the god has taken on a very attractive form.

 **He** pauses, scrutinizing Steven again. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Steven says, hoping **He** won’t catch him in his lie. (Or does he?)

The air in the cave grows suddenly heavy and oppressive, with the electricity felt before a thunderstorm. The fine hairs on Steven’s neck, arms, and legs stand on end. The bullock and ram sway on their feet and fall to the sand, asleep. The silk of **His** clothing flaps rapidly in the nonexistent breeze. Just as suddenly, the air clears and stills, as if nothing had happened. 

“It is _not_ nothing,” **He** says. “ **I** felt something. Something that you are trying to hide from **Me**. You came willingly, I told you may go, and yet you are still here, trying to suppress a strong feeling. It flared when **I** touched the pearls, yet **I** do not believe it is something so base as _greed_.”

Some of the strips of silk twist and writhe, becoming thin tentacles that stretch out towards Steven. His fear spikes again, but he tries to calm it. 

“ **I** am curious about you, human.”

Steven tries to remain still and calm as the tentacles reach him. The tentacles are surprisingly warm and gentle as they wriggle across his chest and arms. They wrap loosely around his body, scrutinizing him. If the god wanted to hurt him, Steven thinks, surely **He** would have done so already. His fear slowly begins to diminish, but as a tentacle grazes one nipple, it is replaced by a far more dangerous emotion: lust. He begs his body not to betray him.

 **His** mouth curves into a sly, knowing smile. Steven swallows. 

“No, _not_ greed, but similarly base,” **He** smirks. “Speak your desires.”

“I shouldn’t,” Steven says, shaking his head. 

He came to offer himself as a sacrifice, but not like _that_. It was blasphemy to presume that the gods, who shift their forms and realities as easily as fire racing through dry tinder, would find a mere mortal a desirable partner. The tentacles wind more tightly around him, caressing his skin. Two very soft, very thin tentacles creep up his chest and curl around his nipples, pebbled both from the chill of the air and from his rising desire. Steven’s breath begins to quicken.

“Do not lie to **Me**. **I** will not punish you for speaking the truth.” **He** says. “Do not be afraid or ashamed. There are more humans than you might realize who find Us enticing. **My** dam was an Old One, but **My** sire was human, so there are also more of Us than you might realize who find _humans_ enticing. What do you want?”

Steven looks up at the god (demigod?) standing before him and watches as **His** ragged silks melt away, revealing the lithe, muscled body beneath them. He knows it is not the god’s true form, but that it was chosen in response to his presence in **His** sanctum. Almost as if the god knew of his desire and wished to test him. Steven can feel his cock beginning to swell as his eyes come to rest on the perfect sculpted V of **His** groin and the heavy cock hanging between His legs.

“Tell **Me** ,” **He** says again, more insistent.

“I am unworthy, but I wish to beg protection of our village and our crops and our ships,” Steven says. He does not _lie_ , exactly, merely not yet saying some things. 

“That is why you came, yes, and I will do what I am able to help. The storms are not my domain, but I will do what I can,” **He** says, loosening **His** tentacles and using them instead to untangle the strings of pearls and lift them off of Steven. “But why did you choose to _stay_? Why do you still remain? You are no longer bound; if you chose to leave and return to your village and your people, to tell them of **My** pronouncement—no more human sacrifice— **I** would let you go freely. Do you wish to leave?”

Unclasping his hands from behind his back, Steven remains on his knees on the uncomfortable stone altar. No, he does not wish to leave. He shakes his head.

“Then tell **Me**.”

“I wish to worship you,” Steven whispers. He casts his eyes down at his traitorous body, his nipples and cock flushed with blood and fully erect.

 **His** tentacles drop the pearls to the altar and draw back, haloing **His** body. “Then come and worship and **I** will reward you,” **He** says, holding out **His** hands to Steven. “Come down from the altar to the sand. It will be easier on your knees.”

Steven takes **His** hands and lets **Him** help him down. His legs wobble a little as he gets his feet back under him and **He** steadies him, **His** hands strong and firm. Steven looks up at **His** face, meets **His** eyes, and sinks to his knees in front of **Him**. He crosses his hands behind his back and takes a submissive pose.

“I will worship you however you wish,” Steven avows. “I wish to please you.”

“You will,” **He** replies, nodding his head and smiling. **He** places a hand on top of Steven’s head and steps closer. **His** other hand goes to **His** cock and begins to stroke it lazily. 

Steven watches with a mixture of rapture and disbelief. This was really, truly happening.

“Open your mouth,” **He** commands. Steven obeys and **He** moves even closer. **He** slides the head of **His** cock between Steven’s lips and grips **His** fingers in his hair, holding him in place. 

“Please,” Steven begs, his words mumbled.

“Don’t worry,” **He** says, reaching **His** tentacles out again to caress Steven’s body. “Words are not necessary now. Let **Me** feel you and your body, your soul, will tell **Me** what you want. **I** will take what **I** want but nothing that you do not wish to give. Nod if you understand.”

 **He** loosens **His** grip on Steven’s hair and Steven nods vigorously before pushing deeper onto **His** cock.

“Eager, are you?” **He** laughs, looking down at **His** supplicant, mouth stretched wide in a very personal prayer.

 **His** tentacles wrap around Steven’s chest and arms, binding his arms and wrists more strongly than the decorative bonds of the pearls ever could, and still he does not resist. **He** runs **His** fingers through Steven’s hair, petting him as he works his way down **His** cock. **He** places a hand on his chin, tipping his head back and straightening his throat. Steven’s eyes go wide, looking up at **Him** before fluttering closed.

\-----

It had been so long since Steven last had a cock in his mouth, but here he was now, on his knees before an altar in a sacred cave, fellating a demigod. **His** cock was thick and heavy, the skin silky smooth and tasting of the sea, and all he wanted right at this moment was to take it all in, to press his lips to **His** groin and feel himself both so full and so open. **His** hand is on his chin, commanding gently, and he gradually swallows **Him** down.

He remains like that as long as he can, letting himself be a living reliquary, a sacred vessel to contain his god, until **He** pushes him off. Steven coughs and gasps as his throat and mouth are suddenly empty. The hand moves up from his chin to his cheek, stroking him soothingly.

“That was a very good start,” **He** praises. **He** takes **His** wet cock in **His** other hand and rubs it over Steve’s lips without pressing it into his mouth. “Show **Me** how else you pray to **Me**.”

Steven parts his lips and mouths at the head of **His** cock, down the shaft, and back up again, drawing pleasured grunts and little beads of precome from **Him**.

“Please, let me take you. I want to taste you again,” Steven begs as **He** rubs **His** cock against his cheek, smearing precome on his face.

 **He** nods and pushes **His** thumb into Steven’s mouth, which gapes wide before **He** can urge it open.

“So willing,” **He** says and slips his glans into Steven’s mouth again. “So _needy_.”

 **He** grips Steven’s hair again and fists **His** cock. **He** strokes **Himself** while simultaneously fucking into Steven’s eager mouth. **He** gives an unearthly howl and fractures slightly, like light through a prism, as **He** orgasms, cock throbbing and spilling into Steven’s mouth and down his chin. **He** pulls out, a string of semen and spittle momentarily connecting **Him** to **His** worshiper. Steven swallows and licks his lips as **He** pulls **His** body fully back into the humanoid shape it had taken for their encounter.

And then it’s Steven’s turn to groan and gasp with pleasure as the tentacles binding him begin to twist and writhe, exploring his body. They begin to exude a slick coating that tingles a little where it touches his skin, and the tentacles change their textures, so they are simultaneously silky smooth and roughly ridged. They encircle his nipples again, caressing them rhythmically. One twines around his cock, coiling and uncoiling slowly, the tip teasing at his glans. Another finds its way to his asshole and pushes its way past the sensitive ring.

“Oh!” Steven cries out. “Oh!” the only word he can comprehend as **He** takes it upon **Himself** to reward **His** worshiper. This was so much more than he had hoped for, so much more than he had thought possible.

 **He** strokes Steven’s hair gently, down to the back of his neck, and smiles at him. Steven moans more loudly, his breath more ragged, as the tentacle in his ass squirms and slowly thickens. He is so close, so quickly, with the demigod on him and in him, feeling him and making **Himself** felt. The tentacle reaches its ideal thickness and begins to thrust, its slippery ridges massaging him and drawing bolts of exquisite pleasure from the little swell of flesh inside him.

“Oh!” he cries again. His cock pulses and he spills onto the sand. The tentacles on him and in him still as he comes, offering a grateful embrace and fullness as his body shudders. Steven is only partially aware of the demigod gently lifting him to his feet, supporting him as his legs find their strength again. As the tentacles unwind and withdraw, he unclasps his hands, bringing them before him and **He** takes them in **His** own.

“Perhaps there are _some_ varieties of human sacrifice that **I** am willing to accept,” **He** teases, smiling fondly down at Steven. “Rest, wash yourself, return to your village, and tell them what **I** told you— **I** will provide you with a token of proof so that you will be believed. And if you so desire, you may return to **My** altar any time you wish.”

“I will, oh, I will,” Steven says wholeheartedly.


End file.
